


The Shattered Clock

by Quietdahlia



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Will Graham, Hallucinations, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Minor use or paraphrase of dialogue from the show, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, like really really slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29837379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietdahlia/pseuds/Quietdahlia
Summary: Will Graham retires from the police force after a haunting encounter with a serial killer who suggests Will might be a lot darker than he thinks. Years later he is asked to consult for the FBI. There he meets psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter who takes an immediate interest in him.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	1. Prologue

Will took a deep breath before stepping out of his car onto the empty street. It was just after noon but it was a weekday and most of the residents were probably at work. When he looked out at the street he realized how poorly maintained it was. Lawns were overgrown and full of weeds and most of the houses looked as if they hadn't been lived in, in years. It was likely that many of them hadn't been.

He was here following a lead on a homicide case, more specifically a serial killer investigation. His first one ever. He had worked homicide for a few years now but only became a detective fairly recently and was eager to be working on such a high profile case.

The killer in question had murdered seven different people, bleeding them out over several days before disposing of the bodies in various alleyways around New Orleans. The bodies had been stabbed and cut all over and then the killer had used a tourniquet to ensure they wouldn't bleed out too quickly so that the process could be continued for days. This wasn't just murder. It was torture. The disposal of the bodies felt secondary to the actual act of torturing them. The killer didn't care about how they were found, the act of creating extreme fear was what excited him.

The victims were all various ages, genders, and races with seemingly nothing in common other than the fact they all had recently moved to the area and lived alone. Because of this detail Will spent a lot of time thinking about why the killer had targeted new residents in particular. There had to be a reason, there always was with serial killers.

He must have targeted single people who had recently moved because they didn't have many connections in the city yet. After all it was assumed that he held them somewhere and tortured them for days before he killed them due to the state of the bodies. If the victims didn't know many people, it was less likely that someone would report them missing until it was too late.

But this still left Will stumped on how exactly the killer found these victims. That was until he realized that people who were moving to a new city were always looking for new furniture and a great way to to find furniture for cheap was by looking on online marketplaces. These anonymous marketplaces were a way for a killer to meet up with unsuspecting victims. Facebook would allow the killer to cyber stalk their victims and quickly determine whether or not someone had recently moved to town, as well as whether or not they lived alone. 

Will spent hours scouring Facebook marketplace noting down a few ads that looked suspicious until he found one that stuck out to him more than the others.

At first glance the ad didn't seem out of place. It was for a couch that looked like it was in great condition for only 50 dollars. This in itself wasn't inherently suspicious but the profile it linked back to was practically blank. No photos, videos, or even a profile picture was attached to the account. Only a name. Ethan Smith. Combined with all the other details Will was almost certain the name was a fake. 

It wasn't uncommon for Will to find details that others would miss. He often would pick up what others couldn't sometimes seemingly like magic. But it wasn't magic, the evidence was always there, he just interpreted it differently than everyone else. 

Will created a fake account for himself, adding photos and friending a bunch of random people to make the profile look as real as possible before messaging the mysterious “Ethan Smith.” To Will’s surprise “Ethan” responded very quickly to the message and was eager to meet him as soon as possible. They worked out a time to meet and the seller gave him a home address to pick up the couch from.

The street was quiet and Will noticed how dilapidated almost all of the houses were. He was nearly certain that the house he was walking up to was long since abandoned. It looked as if it was melting or sinking into the earth. The roof was practically wilting and there were several patches missing shingles. There was no way it was up to code.

This was all but proof that the person waiting in the house was the killer Will was looking for. He quickly grabbed his police radio and called for backup. He knew he should just wait until backup got there before entering the house but curiosity got the best of him. Besides he was afraid the killer would spook if a bunch of police cars showed up on the street. And this could lead to a shootout or even suicide. Though if he was being honest with himself the reason Will didn't want any other cops around was because he was curious what would happen. He figured the police chief would reem him for it later but he knew he wasn't going to get into any real trouble.

He walked up the wooden porch steps which let out a series of creaks as if at any moment the porch was going to fall out from under him. He raised his hand to knock on the door before realizing it was already slightly ajar. Will drew his gun before slowly opening the door.

He was right about the building being abandoned, the entire entryway was empty except for an accumulation of cigarette butts, broken glass, and dirt that littered the floor. People had likely been squatting here before the serial killer scared them off. _Or killed them_. This thought made Will shiver.

He made his way through the main floor of the house checking each room finding them all empty. There was no furniture in any of the rooms and the house was devoid of anything that could possibly make it a home. Will could not imagine anyone living here. It felt dark and humid and the atmosphere sucked his energy like a vacuum.

Disappointment began to sink into Will as he realized that the man he was looking for might not even be here after all. _Great, after all of that there was no need to call for backup anyway_. But just as this thought crossed Wills mind he heard a loud crashing noise from the basement.

He whipped around, gun raised, to see the basement door was already open. When he walked through the door he noticed a sickly sweet foul odour and wondered how it hadn't caught his attention earlier. He pulled out a flashlight and slowly creeped down the stairs into the dark basement. When he got to the bottom of the stairs he was able to find a cord dangling from the ceiling connected to a light. He pulled the cord reluctantly and a wash of light flooded the room. It wasn't bright enough to be able to see everything clearly but when Wills eyes adjusted to the room he gasped at what he saw.

A tall slender man with a sunken face and sparse facial hair stood over a table covered in knives, axes, and several other kinds of weapons. Some of the weapons were strewn across the floor and Will figured that this must've been the source of the crashing noise he heard upstairs. On the floor beside the man sat a metal chair that was completely covered in dried blood. The blood not only covered the chair but also the wooden floorboards surrounding it. Will's eyes met the killers and he almost gagged. It was if the creep could see right into his mind. He immediately averted his eyes, instead staring at the man's forehead.

“You must be the buyer” the man purred. “You know it would have been polite to at least knock.” He took a step towards Will, a hunting knife in his hand.

“Don't move” Will spat, pointing his gun at the figure. His hands were trembling but at least he had managed to keep his voice steady.

“You're not going to shoot me.” The man smiled as he took another step.

“What makes you say that?” Will asked, trying to make his voice sound flat and unaffected, his finger hovered over the trigger of his gun.

“Because you’re curious about me. You're not who people think you are, I can see it in your eyes.”

“Drop the knife Ethan.”

“My name isn't really Ethan you must know that. It's David. David Campbell. But I assume the name you gave me isn't your real name either. Now that we are getting to know each other I must ask, what is your name?”

The man took another step closer, toying with the blade in his hand as Will took a step backward dropping his eyes down to the blood soaked floor.

“Its Will. Will Graham but I’m not going to ask you again. Drop the knife and put your hands on your head.”

Suddenly, before Will could react the man lunged forward knocking them both to the ground. They wrestled for a moment before Will was pinned underneath David's weight. He had managed to keep hold of his gun in the altercation and was pressing it firmly against the killer's chest though for some reason he still couldn't shoot.

“What do you mean I’m not who people think I am?” Will looked at David’s chin to avoid those menacing eyes.

“You're like me aren't you officer?”

“I’m nothing like you” Will spat. Though he tried to fight it his eyes were drawn back into the dark pits of his attackers like a magnet. When their eyes met once more, Will got a pit deep in his stomach.

_Empathy_. Will thought to himself. _This killer has empathy like me_. That's how it seemed as if he could see into Will's soul. This realization sent him spinning. This killer could read people the way Will could. He could assume anyone's point of view. He could feel his victims fear as he killed them, he could experience every last ounce of their pain, and not only that but he enjoyed it. He was able to look into his victims eyes and understand them much the same as Will looked into his eyes and understood him.

“You are. And you would enjoy it too. Killing I mean. You would revel in it. You can't hide that from me the same way I can't hide it from you.”

Will heard shouting upstairs. Backup had finally arrived. “I… I wouldn't. I couldn't. How can you see someone, know them fully, and still kill them?”

“The same way you could. And you will. Someday.” David pressed his knee harder into Wills chest making it difficult for him to breathe. “Now it seems we don't have much time. What a shame. Now, I want you to remember this moment. Remember me.” David smiled slowly pressing his knife into Wills shoulder. At this Will screamed and officers started streaming down the stairs.

“You can’t escape who you are Will. No matter how much you run the darkness will always be there. I will always be there.” David stated, pulling the blade from Will's shoulder before bringing it down to the same spot once again tearing straight through tissue and embedding into bone. At that moment six or seven shots rang out and David's body fell next to him, eyes still trained on Wills.

“Someday you will see” David whispered only just loud enough for Will to hear before his body went limp beside him and the dark fire burning in his eyes was extinguished. 

The last thing Will heard was an officer shouting for a medic before his vision went blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you found this first chapter interesting. It is just the prologue but the main story begins in the next chapter. I have not yet decided a schedule for releasing new chapters but I am already done the next one it just needs some revision so it should be out in a few days. This is gonna be a long one so be prepared. I am a full time university student who works part time so updates will in all likelihood depend on my schedule. I'm not a professional writer so I may have some small formatting or grammar errors here and there so bear with me if you can. I really appreciate anyone taking time out of their busy lives to read this!


	2. Chapter 2

Will woke with a start, practically flying up from under his bedsheets. He was gasping for air, shaking with the ever present memory of David Campbell's knife in his shoulder. It had been nearly four years since that day in the dark basement but Will still managed to have nightmares about it semi regularly. He brought his hand to his shoulder feeling the thick bands of scar tissue where the knife had been to remind himself that David Campbell was dead and he had nothing to worry about. He didn't even work for the police force anymore.

Will had quit his detective job almost immediately after his close call with the serial killer. He knew he couldn't keep working as a police officer if he couldn't even shoot a man who stabbed him. How was he supposed to continue after that? If he couldn't shoot David, how could he know he wouldn't freeze up the next time something like this happened? His inability to pull the trigger could cost him his life or the life of one of his fellow officers and he was simply unwilling to risk that.

After he recovered from his stab wound Will had packed all of his belongings and fled Louisiana. He had needed a new scene. Somewhere that didn't remind him of David or the words he had spoken to him that day. 

Will settled on Virginia as his new home and he had not looked back for a second. His life in Wolftrap was quiet and peaceful. He had six dogs and a lovely property with several acres of land, there was also a beautiful stream nearby where he could go fishing. Virginia was perfect in that it was absolutely nothing like Louisiana. The weather, culture, and political climate was so distinctly different.

He was also able to get a job teaching at the FBI academy which felt like a dream come true. It was the perfect way to continue to exercise his knowledge on forensics and psychology without having to commit to field work.

He looked at his clock and realized it was half an hour before his alarm would go off. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep now. He knew that if he tried he would just end up more tired and he still had a 45 minute drive ahead of him. Instead he grumbled before dragging himself the rest of the way out of bed. At this the dogs woke up too and ran towards him, tails wagging and noses pressed against his legs. He walked over to the door to let them outside and a gust of crisp fall wind hit him like a wall. At this point Will realized just how sweaty he was, his t-shirt almost entirely soaked. He peeled off the shirt, tossing it into the hamper before jumping into a steaming hot shower.

Will knew that it should concern him that he was still having nightmares about his stabbing years after it happened but there wasn't much he could do about it. If he brought it up to anyone they would tell him to try therapy and Will was absolutely not about to do that. Therapy wasn't going to work on him. He had majored in psychology in college and already knew all the tricks. Besides it's not like he would be able to tell any psychiatrist about what was bouncing around his head anyway. The last time he had seen a psychiatrist was immediately after his altercation with David Campbell. He could only tell them half truths. It wasn't like there was anyone alive to contradict him and he knew there was no way he would've been able to secure his job at Quantico if they had known exactly what David had told him. He already couldn't even be considered an actual agent and was on pretty thin ice where his mental stability was concerned.

After his shower Will spent the rest of his morning cooking food for his dogs and notably nothing for himself. He fed all six dogs and let them out to pee one more time before heading off to work.

Will arrived at the academy thirty minutes before his class was supposed to start. He liked to come early so he didn't have to walk through the halls when they were super crowded. When he walked into his classroom he was surprised to see the figure of a dark haired woman with a black leather jacket leaning on his desk. She was leaning back with her arms crossed over a case file. He immediately recognized her as Beverly Katz, a forensic technician at the BAU. _So much for coming to school early to be alone_.

“Hey Will, I thought if I came early I might be able to catch you before your class” Beverly announced with a smirk. She always seemed to be in a relatively good mood for someone whos job it was to dissect murder victims. Will on the other hand was almost never in a good mood especially when someone caught him off guard so early in the morning. 

“Well I guess you’ve caught me. What do you want?” Will shrugged looking at the ground. He wasn't exactly known for being polite which is a reputation he would like to uphold. If people didn't like him then they wouldn't bother him. But Beverly did not get the memo, or if she did she pretended she didn't. 

“I have a case I want you to look at. We could really use your input. You always have a way with these kinds of things.” She was right of course. This wasn't the first time Beverly had found her way to Wills classroom looking for help on a case and he was always willing to help her even if it took some convincing. In fact Beverly had formed a habit of consulting Will with any high profile case that came to her. He didn't really know why this was. It's not like he could solve the case for her on the spot. Typically Will would look at a case, make a profile, and hopefully point her in the right direction. Most of the heavy lifting was still done by forensics, he just sped up the process a little bit.

“Alright. What have you got?” Will asked as Beverly passed him the manila case file. He honestly really liked helping with the cases. It made him feel useful, like he was actually doing something with his talents.

“Serial arsonist. He locks his victims in their houses and then burns them down while they are asleep. So far we can link three fires to this killer. He broke into the homes and tampered with their smoke detectors before pouring gasoline across the floor. Eight people were killed with no survivors.”

“Leave me with the file and I’ll tell you what I think this afternoon after I’m done teaching.”

“Great! Meet me at the lab whenever you're ready. Thank you for the help.” With that Beverly stood up and walked out of the classroom giving Will a nod as she walked by him.

There wasn't enough time before class for Will to get a good look at the file so he tucked it into one of his desk drawers. Luckily he didn't have any lectures after lunch and could dedicate the rest of his afternoon to the case if he needed to.

After class Will waited for all of the trainees to exit the classroom before locking the door and grabbing the case file from his desk. He didn't want any interruptions while he did his work and knowing his luck, some boisterous trainee (or forensic technician) would barge into his classroom when he was in the middle of visualizing the crime.

He read the file front to back and looked at the charred corpses of the men, women, and children before setting it down on his desk. Dead bodies had never really bothered Will. Maybe it was because he spent so long working in homicide, he was probably just desensitized. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath watching the pendulum swing back and forth across the back of his eyelids.

_I break into the Coopers family home late into the night when I know they will all be asleep. I brought two full gas cans with me. I know the layout of the home. I’ve been here before. Quietly I take out the batteries of the smoke alarms. I leave a trail of gasoline from the parents bedroom to the nursery and then into the kitchen and finally pour out the rest of the gas in the living room. I pile furniture in front of every possible exit except for the front door. I strike a match and toss it onto the floor before exiting. I wait close by the house to hear the screams of the family inside as I listen to them burn. This is my design._

Will opened his eyes to find himself back in his classroom. He blinked a few times to make sure his surroundings were real before picking up the case file once again. It wasn't unusual for him to get lost in recreating crime scenes, in fact this is what made him so good at what he did. That didn't mean that it didn't take a toll on him each time he did this. He would always take a little piece of the killers with him every time he got into their heads. Sometimes he would even lose sight of where his own thoughts ended and where the killers began. 

He grabbed his belongings and headed over to the building that housed the BAU and the lab that he was supposed to meet Beverly in.

When he walked into the lab he saw two men in long white lab coats arguing over a body. Beverly was standing a few steps away, her eyes trained on a computer screen, completely oblivious to his entrance.

“I’m telling you it was the ex wife. Her fingerprints are on his glasses!” The older of the two men said, waving his hand around to emphasize his point.

“No way. She is 5’2” this man is 6’4” and was beaten to death. It had to have been a man. Or if the ex wife did do it she didn't do it alone” the other man exclaimed before he finally noticed Will standing awkwardly in the corner. “Wait… who are you?” the younger of the two asked. Beverly looked up at Will and smiled.

“This is Will Graham. He's helping me out with that arsonist case I was working on. Did you find anything?” Beverly asked. The two men glanced at each other before looking to Will. 

Will's eyes wandered down to his shoes and then up to the space right next to Beverly's head before he answered.

“The guy you are looking for has been in each of the homes before. He could be a family friend or more likely a tradesman. Check to see if the families had any plumbing or electrical work done in the weeks before they were killed.” 

“And how do you know he had been in the house before? I’ve looked through that file front to back half a dozen times and there is no proof the killer would have known the layout of the homes.” The younger of the two male technicians said smugly. Will shot him a dirty look out the corner of his eye before bringing his gaze to the beaten corpse on the table. He crossed his arms awkwardly before realizing how weird it was that he was staring at a corpse. He shifted his eyes to the space between the arguing technicians, a much more normal place to be looking.

“He was able to locate all of the smoke alarms without waking anyone up. He also knew where each of the doors and windows that he needed to block off were. He isn't confident enough to wing it and enter a house without having visited it at least once before.” Will didn't really have enough evidence to explain that last point but he knew it to be true. This killer was quiet. He wasn't noticed in his day to day routine. He was unassuming and probably polite. There was no way he would have been confident enough to break into a house without already knowing the layout.

“Alright I’ll be sure to check it out. This case has been cold for months. At this point I’m willing to follow any lead I get” Beverly admitted. Will looked over and saw her give him a small smile. “By the way, that's Jimmy and this is Brian. Don’t take them too seriously.” 

“Heyyy” both men whined before once again getting distracted by the corpse, this time with Beverly weighing in on the argument. Will took this opportunity to sneak out of the lab. He had already told them everything could about the case and at this point he just wanted to get home unnoticed. 

A few days later, Will was organizing his things after class and preparing to go home for the day after school. There were still a few students filing out of the classroom so he wasn't in any particular rush.

“Mr. Graham” bellowed a man Will recognized from the BAU. He flicked his eyes up at the man, saying nothing before resuming placing his laptop in his book bag. “Special Agent Jack Crawford. I head the behavioural science unit” the man continued unfazed by Wills lack of response.

“I know we’ve met” Will muttered without looking up from his task. He had no interest in talking to anyone right now, especially not Jack Crawford. Their only previous meeting hadn’t exactly been pleasant. Not that Will’s interactions were usually pleasant, he had a habit of being extremely awkward which often made people uncomfortable.

“Yes. We had a disagreement when we opened up the museum.” Jack stated. Will pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He really did not want to be rehashing this conversation right now.

“I disagreed with what you named it” he responded, moving his eyes up to Jack's face for a brief moment before looking back down at his desk.

“The Evil Minds Research Museum” Jack shot him a look but Will kept his eyes focused on his bookbag pretending not to notice.

“A little hammy don’t you think Jack?” Will looked up, focusing on the bridge of Jack's nose. This was as close to eye contact as he was comfortable getting. The corners of Jack’s mouth turned up, he was clearly amused by Will’s attempts to get him to leave.

“My team has been particularly efficient in solving cases lately.”

“Congratulations” Will rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what game Jack was playing and he was not going to play along. 

“Turns out it's not my team that deserves the congratulations. It’s you.” Will figured that this would come eventually. Afterall he wasn't an official consultant and Beverly Katz really shouldn't have been sharing sensitive information with him. He just hoped that Beverly wouldn’t get in trouble for any of this.

“I didn't solve the cases Jack I simply read through the files and gave my opinion. That's it.” Will huffed loudly and put his book bag on his desk with a loud clunk to demonstrate his dissatisfaction with the conversation.

“I’ve looked into you Will. I hear you can empathize with killers, narcissists, and sociopaths.” Jack clamped his hand on Wills shoulder, causing him to shrug it off with discomfort. He looked up, this time at Jack's forehead. 

“I can empathize with anybody. I have an overactive imagination.” Ignoring his earlier discomfort Jack put his hand on Wills shoulder again this time in a way that he couldn't easily shake off. Will looked down meeting Jack’s stare.

“Can I borrow your imagination?”

***

Hannibal heard a knock on his door which was odd considering he didn't have any more patients today. He assumed a patient had messed up the date or maybe thought they had forgotten something in his office. Instead he opened his door to see a man wearing a suit. The suit was not as nice as his own of course but instead the kind thing he would expect a government worker to wear. _Something a federal agent might wear_. This thought sounded alarm bells in his brain but he did not let this show on his face. 

“Doctor Lecter, I’m Special Agent Jack Crawford. FBI” the man pulled out his FBI credentials letting Hannibal look over them for a moment before returning them back to his jacket pocket. “May I come in?”

“Please do.” Hannibal replied, opening the door wide enough and stepping inside to let the agent inside. Jack walked into the office and was clearly taken aback by the grandiosity of it. His eyes flitted around the room from the drawings on the desk to the huge collection of books above. Hannibal cursed himself internally realizing that he had carelessly left his drawings out for Agent Crawford to see, one of which being the wound man. This wouldn’t normally be a problem as the wound man was common enough in medical texts, except Hannibal had brought the portrait to life in one of his previous tableaus. If Jack was here to question him about the Chesapeake Ripper, he would almost certainly recognize the wound man. “May I ask what brings you here?”

“You can ask but I’m going to have to ask you a few questions first.” Jack replied with a smile. Hannibal smiled back at him though he was not at all amused. 

The FBI wouldn't be so bold as to send a single agent after him if they knew what he was, well at least not again. No, it was more likely Agent Crawford was simply here on an unrelated case. Still, it made him uneasy to have an FBI agent in his office especially after the last one had so easily deduced what he was. 

“You, uh, expecting another patient?” 

“We’re all alone.” Hannibal replied. Jack walked over to the drawing table with Hannibal following close behind. He started leafing through the pages and Hannibal could see the edge of his drawing of the wound man. If he was caught this way for a second time he would never forgive himself.

“These yours doctor?”

“Yes”

“The amount of detail is incredible.” Jack said in awe as he focused on the drawing of Hannibal's old boarding school in Paris.

“I learned very early that a scalpel cuts better points than a pencil sharpener.” Hannibal picked up the scalpel. It would be good to have a weapon handy if Jack noticed the wound man peeking out from underneath the drawing of the boarding school. _Maybe I should just kill him now to get it over with_. No, that was a bad idea, Jack had likely told someone where he was going and if he turned up dead Hannibal would be the first suspect. Instead he would try and determine why exactly an FBI agent, especially such a high ranking one was in his office. “I’m beginning to think you are investigating me, Agent Crawford” Hannibal stated. Jack laughed at this notion.

“No, no. You were referred to me by Alana Bloom” Jack replied. At this Hannibal let out a little sigh and placed his scalpel back on the desk. 

“May I ask what for?”

“I have been looking for someone to help me work on a psychological profile and you came very highly recommended. I read your paper, Evolutionary Origins of Social Exclusion. Very interesting, and brilliant work.” This made Hannibal smile genuinely and he was very grateful that he had decided not to kill Jack Crawford moments earlier. Working with the FBI could prove to be very interesting, not to mention it may let him observe the investigation into his own crimes.

“Tell Dr. Bloom I am very grateful for her recommendation. And of course I would be honoured to help the FBI out with whatever they ask of me.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Just between you and me, while consulting on this case I also want you keeping an eye on another consultant of mine. He’s brilliant and has the rare gift of pure empathy. He’s able to see into killers minds and he solves cases a lot faster than anyone else I’ve ever met. But I’m worried about him. I think he might be unstable. I need you to let me know whether or not I can trust him to do fieldwork.” This piqued Hannibal's curiosity; he had heard of empathy disorders similar to what Jack was describing but had never had the opportunity to meet someone with the condition. He was not even sure if such a condition even existed, but if it did he just had to see it for himself.

“Of course. And what is this profiler's name?”

“Will Graham.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should come out sometime this weekend. My updates should continue fairly frequently but will likely slow down in April because of exams!


	3. Chapter 3

“I really don’t think Will is ready for fieldwork Jack.” Alana stated, shifting anxiously in her seat, crossing and then uncrossing her legs. She didn't know Will extremely well, but she could very easily determine sending him out in the field would not be good for anyone. Will had quit his job as a detective days after his traumatic experience in Louisiana and moved halfway across the country soon after. She didn’t have to be a professional to know it was likely that Will had never resolved his trauma.

“He told me he was fine” Jack commented, brushing off her concern with a flick of his wrist.

“What he told you and what is the truth are likely two very different things.” Alana retaliated letting some emotion creep into her voice. She didn’t mean for her emotions to get the best of her, but she couldn’t help it. Alana had only ever talked to Will in a professional setting but she still really cared about him. He had a bit of a rough exterior but she knew underneath all the awkwardness and the avoidance he was hurting.

Jack sighed before placing both hands on the desk in front of him. Alana knew he wouldn’t yell at her. Jack respected her too much, even if they almost never agreed.

“Will Graham has done nothing to indicate to me that he is not perfectly capable of handling this. Besides I won’t be sending him in alone. I spoke with that psychiatrist you recommended to me, Dr. Lecter, and he said he was willing to observe Will to determine whether or not he is fit to be doing field work.”

“And why can't you trust my opinion on this matter? I am just as qualified as Dr. Lecter.” Alana retaliated.

“I don’t trust you to have objectivity when it comes to Will Graham. I want someone who has had no prior relationship with him. I appreciate your conviction Dr. Bloom, but Will is going to be consulting for me unless he or Dr. Lecter indicates to me that he should not be.” 

Alana nodded, looking down at her well manicured hands. Jack might be right. Besides, Hannibal was a brilliant psychiatrist and she trusted him to be able to make an accurate judgement about Will. 

***

It had been nearly three weeks after Jack and Will’s conversation in his classroom. Will’s nights seemed to consist of constant nightmares, and when he wasn’t dreaming he was lying awake thinking.

It wasn’t a surprise to him that his dreams would become more frequent after he had talked to Jack. It was like his mind was warning him not to go back to fieldwork. 

At this point he assumed that Jack had changed his mind about “borrowing his imagination.” He wouldn’t be surprised if Alana had talked Jack out of letting him consult, she had expressed this sentiment to Will earlier this week after he nearly ran right into her on his way to class. Will tended to do this a lot as he had a bad habit of staring at the ground while he walked. But Alana hadn’t commented on his clumsiness and had instead jumped straight into discussing Will’s possible consulting job.

“So a little birdie tells me you were considering joining Jack’s behavioural analysis team” she had said while looking up at him from underneath her eyelashes, pushing back a long dark curl behind her ear. 

“Thinking about it” Will smiled looking down at her ankles which were neatly tucked into a pair of heels.

“Are you sure you’re ready? You haven’t been out in the field in a really long time Will. There is no shame in telling Jack no.”

“I know. I really think I’m ready. If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have agreed to it.” This was technically a lie. Will probably wasn’t ready to get back out there but if he didn’t try now the opportunity would probably never come up again.

“Okay well if you ever want to talk…” Alana started before Will cut her off.

“Thank you. I will.” Alana had smiled and gave Will a small nod before continuing down the hall. 

Will had always admired her, after all she was an undeniably beautiful and intelligent woman. In fact he often caught himself thinking about her at various times throughout the week. But he also couldn’t stand the pity he saw in her eyes whenever she looked at him. Alana saw Will as fragile, someone who might crack if she looked at him the wrong way. Whenever people learned about his history with David Campbell they tended to look at him like that. Like he was a small bird with a broken wing. If anything he preferred Jack’s oblivious approach over Alana’s.

Jack didn’t treat Will like he was some kind of damaged goods. He treated him just like he did any other of his employees which was something Will respected, though he had to admit that Jack had a tendency to disregard boundaries.

Suddenly a buzzing sound broke Will from his thoughts. It was his cellphone. _Now where is the damn thing?_ Will flew through his house like a tornado checking under pillows and couch cushions until he found it laying under his bed. Of course he had no idea how it had gotten there but he figured the dogs had something to do with it. When he looked down at the caller ID screen it read JACK CRAWFORD. 

“Hey Jack, what can I do for you” Will greeted, panting into the phone slightly due to his exertion in looking for it. 

“Hello Will, I’m calling to let you know I have a case for you. If you are still interested in consulting that is.” Jack was trying to test the waters. Giving Will an easy out if he needed one. But Will didn't need an out, he was determined to go through with this. He couldn’t just keep living his life in fear, it was time to get back in the saddle. Maybe the best way to get David Campbell out of his head was to move forward.

“Yeah, I’m still interested.”

“Great. But I must warn you, I’m not starting you off easy Will. This one is pretty gruesome.”

“I worked homicide, remember? I’ve seen it all.”

“You haven’t seen this,” Jack uttered ominously before giving him the address.

Will arrived at the crime scene about an hour after the call with Jack. The address Jack gave him was for an old hiking trail. The forest was so thick Will thought he was going the wrong way twice when stumbling through the tall weeds and bushes before he came across the yellow crime scene tape. He pulled out his temporary identification badge from the FBI and the officer guarding the scene lifted the tape for him to walk under. 

It was a miracle any bodies were ever found here. Even though the hiking trail was relatively busy most days, the bodies were about 100 meters off the path and he couldn’t imagine anyone walking off the trail due to the sheer density of the underbrush.

In his brief journey to the crime scene he had already scraped himself twice on thorny plants. _I hope those weren’t poison ivy_ he thought to himself. It’s not like Will wasn’t used to forests, he had to walk through a similar one in Wolftrap to go fishing in the stream, but he really didn’t need to get a weird rash on his first day consulting at FBI crime scenes.

He walked a few meters before spotting Jack. Their eyes briefly met before Will quickly looked away, awkwardly pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Prepare yourself” Jack suggested in a calm but firm voice. Will nodded without looking up. He trudged down a small slope towards the group of forensic technicians who were busy leaning over and taking photos. He gulped. Jack had been right, never in his life had Will seen anything like this.

Nine bodies were laid out next to nine shallow graves. They were extremely pale and each of them were in various stages of decay, but that wasn’t the most interesting thing about them. All of the bodies were covered nearly head to toe in _mushrooms_. This was no accident. These mushrooms were cultivated, grown with extreme care and consideration.

“They were buried in a high nutrient compost, likely of his own making. He was enthusiastically encouraging decomposition” a familiar voice spoke. Will looked over and saw Beverly Katz kneeling next to one of the bodies wearing her signature leather Jacket and an identification badge dangling from her neck. He pressed his lips together to form a little smile of acknowledgement before returning his gaze to the mushroom infested body in front of him.

“They were buried alive with the intention of keeping them that way, well at least for a little while” the technician Will immediately recognized as Brian Zeller from the day he talked to Beverly about the serial arsonist, announced. 

“Long enough for the fungus to eat away any distinguishing characteristics” the other technician he met that day, Jimmy Price, shot back.

“Line and rebar were used to administer intravenous fluids after they were buried,” Beverly added.

This must have been a huge undertaking. The killer would have had to come back and check on the bodies frequently to ensure they were not found by animals. Not only that but the creation of the compost mixture, cleaning the breathing tubes, and care for the mushrooms must have been a tedious task. But not for this killer. No, every painstaking hour spent on the care of these mushrooms was all part of his design. 

“Can I have a moment alone?” Will asked, looking at Jack. His best work was done when he was completely alone. The less distractions the better, even if some couldn’t be helped due to the nature of a forest.

“Well you heard the man. Everybody clear out” Jack boomed, sending the lab technicians scrambling. Jack was pretty intimidating, he wasn't going to have to tell anyone twice. 

Will took a deep breath losing himself in the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rattling in the distance. He imagined what it would have been like to bury the bodies and care for them in the silence of the forest. It must have been calming for the killer, feeling like he was one with nature as he buried his victims so they actually would be. They would rot, delicately and beautifully sinking into and then becoming the earth below.

He was giving them a gift. Allowing them to be in perfect harmony before their deaths, without a care in the world. This gardener gave his victims what he wanted most of all _connection_.

Will knew that fungi could accomplish a certain level of connection. They are built up of small threadlike structures known as mycelium that form a network not too dissimilar to that of neurons in the human brain. These networks were able to connect miles of organisms into one massive living entity.

The killer so desperately wanted this connection and the only way he knew how to do it was through the expansive network of mycelium. 

He was isolated and incredibly lonely but anytime he reached out to anyone they would push him away. He was most definitely single and probably had been alone his entire life. No one with caring friends and family would be able to do this. No this killer was so undeniably and totally alone and probably had never formed a real bond with anyone.

If he ever had parents they were certainly neglectful and withheld any kind of love from him. The only way he knew how to reach out was through his garden. Through the cultivation of his magnificent crop he was finally able to feel the unconditional love he had always craved. This love was practically bleeding out of every molecule of dirt beneath Will’s feet. He could imagine what it would have felt like to place every tube and examine the caps on each of the mushrooms. He could practically feel the mycelium reach out to him.

A warm feeling washed over Will as he felt exactly like how the killer would have felt in the presence of his garden.

“Will… Will are you okay?” Jack asked. 

Will practically leapt out of his skin. He took a couple of quick breaths before realizing he had a shit eating grin plastered across his face. 

_Who smiles at a crime scene?_

“Sorry, I got lost for a second there” Will murmured under his breath, wiping his hand over his face.

“Well it’s time to head back to Quantico, if you’re done here of course. There is someone I would like you to fill in the details for” Jack stated. 

It was clear Jack was ready to leave and at this point so was Will. He had fallen a little too far into the killer's mind and needed to be reigned back in. 

Will knew that this would happen when he took the job. His empathy didn't just allow him to imagine how the killers thought, he could also feel how they felt. For a brief moment he would lose himself to this feeling. This happened every time Will had ever visited a crime scene, it’s what made him so good at what he does but it also made him dangerous. If he could enjoy feeling like a killer, what stopped him from becoming one? That question had haunted him ever since he met David Campbell.

“How come they aren’t here?” Will asked, curious about this mysterious person apparently working the case that Jack had failed to mention up until this point.

“Dr. Lecter was unable to make it to the crime scene, he had patients he couldn’t cancel on so last minute. Unfortunately he will just have to rely on pictures.”

Will tilted his head down in acknowledgement. Another psychiatrist, _great_. He had a sinking feeling that Jack had hired this doctor to watch him and determine whether he was sane or not. Probably Alana's idea. To be fair he couldn’t exactly blame Jack for worrying after he caught him smiling like a maniac in front of nine dead bodies.

“Alright, I guess I’ll meet you there then” Will stated before walking back over to the crime scene tape.

A small crowd had gathered at the edge of the police line and the officer guarding it had to shoo them away to let Will through. A woman with flaming red curls tried to get his attention but he ignored her and marched straight to his car.

Will hated attention. He had forgotten about the constant barrage of reporters swirling around crime scenes demanding answers. It was bad enough when he worked homicide in New Orleans but he could guess it would be a lot worse at FBI crime scenes. 

Will spent the entire car ride to Quantico in silence without so much as even turning on the radio. It would be better if he was just allowed to go home. He was much too drained to be meeting someone new for the first time, especially someone he might have to continue working with. Will could be awkward and avoidant at the best of times so having a killer lurking in the back of his mind would undoubtedly make this problem worse. This would likely be a recurring theme if he continued to work for the behavioural science division, so he might as well get it over with. Yeah, he might come off as a little rude, but what’s the worst thing that could happen?

***

After Jack left Hannibal’s office the first thing he did was settle down at his desk with his tablet. He did this fairly frequently. As embarrassing as it was, he spent a lot of time reading true crime tabloids and more often than not the source he read them from was Tattlecrime.com. These articles were commercial, flashy, and offensive to read. But despite their negative qualities they were also the fastest and most reliable way to stay up to date on true crime cases. 

Well reliable was a stretch. Freddie Lounds, the writer for Tattlecrime, had a tendency to exaggerate details and spin outrageous theories in order to make the most entertaining stories for her eager readers. Hannibal typically ignored her analysis and simply focused on the physical proof and evidence she efficiently gathered.

Freddie Lounds was often the first person on the scene of a crime and was occasionally able to post an article before the police were even called. She was able to take photos and document the crime scene before it was disturbed.

These articles provided him insight on the investigation and public reception of his own murders as well as other prominent killers in the country.

But this time he was not just searching Tattlecrime. No today he was looking for any information he could find on Will Graham. Jack's brief description of the man made Hannibal exceptionally curious and he just had to find out everything there was to know about him before they met. 

He was always fascinated by people whose brains work differently from most. It is part of the reason he ended up choosing psychiatry over other medical fields. 

Hannibal had several patients over the years with the sort of unique mind he was looking for. He was always curious what he could make these people do if he applied the right amount of pressure.

People were not so rigid as to fit into categories such as “good” and “bad” and Hannibal found that he could make almost anyone do unspeakable things and have them believe they were justified in doing so. It was like a game to him.

When he typed Mr. Graham’s name into the search bar dozens of articles came up. He clicked on the first article titled _Detective Escapes Notorious Serial Killer_. When the article loaded, a picture of a stunning man with shaggy brown hair and piercing blue eyes showed up on his screen. 

The man didn’t initially seem like anything special. Yes, he was conventionally attractive but in a plain sort of way. This wasn’t the kind of person one would pick out in a crowd. From a quick glance he seemed outrageously normal, and therefore boring. Hannibal however, saw something in him. Even from just a picture he could tell this man was hiding something. From his posture to his choice in clothes, this was a man who did not want to be noticed. But Hannibal noticed. _This must be Will Graham_ , he thought. 

The article described an incident in Louisiana where Mr. Graham went to question someone in the investigation of a series of murders in the area. Graham was attacked by the killer and stabbed twice, barely escaping with his life. At first glance the article wasn't particularly interesting. After all it wasn't really that uncommon for an officer to be injured in the line of duty, especially one that was reckless enough to go into a serial killer's den without backup. 

But the more he thought about it, the more interested Hannibal became. There were so many unanswered questions. Why didn’t David Campbell kill Will Graham? He didn't seem to have any remorse for his other victims and according to the article Mr. Graham was alone with him for around ten minutes. This was plenty enough time to eliminate the officer and still have a fighting chance of escaping the authorities. So why didn't he? What could possibly cause a ruthless killer to spare a policeman? And on that same note, why didn't Mr. Graham shoot Campbell? None of the reports indicated that he didn't have a gun. Hannibal knew there had to be more to this seemingly innocent detective than meets the eye.

Will Graham was a puzzle that Hannibal was eager to solve. He hadn’t found such an interesting specimen in what felt like years and he very much hoped that this wouldn’t be another let down.

It was becoming much too easy for him to decipher people. But this empathy disorder Jack had mentioned could prove to be a new and interesting challenge for Hannibal to maneuver. 

It was several days before he finally got the call from Jack to let him know there was a case for him. 

He thought about cancelling his afternoon patients before realizing that it would seem much too eager for him to do so, and frankly, it would be rude to cancel so short notice when he had established his cancelation policy as a 24 hour one. Besides the extra few hours would allow him to spend more time thinking about what he should wear.

He did not want to come across too intimidating to either Jack or Will in order to build their trust. Because of this his usual taste in fashion would have to be put aside for now, or at least until he could slowly get them accustomed to it. This meant that a three piece suit would not be an option.

After going back and forth for some time he chose a neutral toned blazer over a sweater with a collared shirt underneath and decidedly no tie. This was much more casual than he was typically comfortable with, though it would achieve its intended purpose.

Hannibal adjusted his jacket before reaching up to knock on the office door.

When the door opened he saw a slightly older version of the man from the picture he had so meticulously studied. He was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, this definitely fit Hannibal’s perception of him as a man who did not want to stand out.

Will did not look up at him when Jack opened the door, and was instead staring down at his hands which were folded in his lap.

“I hope I am not late, the traffic from Baltimore is quite busy at this time of day.”

Jack Crawford glanced down at his watch, a plain relatively looking digital thing he had probably owned for years.

“Hello Dr. Lecter, you’re right on time” Jack replied with a smile.

Hannibal nodded before stepping into the office. He noted that there weren’t many decorations around except for a small portrait of Jack’s wife sitting on the desk. Everything else in the office seemed to be there in order to serve some kind of utilitarian purpose.

This wasn’t at all surprising, Jack did not seem to be the kind of man who cared about making his space look presentable. It was clean and organized and that’s all that really mattered.

“This is Agent Will Graham, he will be helping me take you through the case.” 

Hannibal stepped over to shake Will’s hand before pulling up a chair to sit next to him at the desk. 

When their hands met, he looked up at Will’s face hoping to catch a glimpse of his piercing blue eyes. Instead Will looked down at his shoes.

“Jack and I briefly discussed a few details of the case over the phone. He mentioned a garden filled with victims who were buried alive.” Hannibal stated, still looking at the quiet man sitting beside him who was now fidgeting with his glasses.

“Yes. The uh, bodies were used kind of like fertilizer. He was growing mushrooms” Will added, lifting his eyes to Hannibals face, though still not meeting his eyes. 

“There were nine victims, each buried only a few inches underground without any kind of restraints. They were hooked up to IV’s to feed them nutrients as well as small breathing tubes for oxygen” Jack rattled off, handing Hannibal the case file.

He slowly looked through the pages in the file. Growing mushrooms was a bit of an understatement. These bodies were practically infested with them.

“Are these mushrooms a local variety?” Hannibal asked.

“Looks like it,” Jack answered.

“The killer specifically chose this kind of mushroom because he knew it wouldn’t damage the local ecosystem. He cares about the environment,” Will added.

This killer was not as artful as Hannibal, though he could appreciate part of that was because he had not intended for his victims to be found. They were meant to remain hidden and were for the killers eyes only.

“If he was so intent on keeping his victims alive, why were each of them found dead at the scene?” Hannibal asked, directing his question at Will.

“It is less about the people and more about what they represent. He doesn’t care about who they were before, it’s about what they can become.” Will said this with confidence, as if it was obvious.

“And what might that be?” Hannibal leaned in a little, curious as to what Will would say. Unfortunately right at that moment a loud buzzing sound interrupted them.

“I’m so sorry I have to take this. You two can continue on without me” Jack grumbled before taking his cellphone out of his pocket and leaving the room.

Will watched Jack leave and then looked down at the desk with a little exhale. It was clear he had no interest being here, especially not with Hannibal.

Hannibal did not mind Will’s lack of interest. He had always prided himself in being a patient man and this would be no exception. If he was right about Will he knew in time the man would become curious about him.

“He’s looking for connection. He’s reaching out the only way he knows how” Will answered after Jack's office door swung closed.

“As humans we are profoundly shaped by our social connections and we suffer greatly when we are unable form these bonds or they are otherwise broken, particularly at a young age.” Will thought about this for a second and then nodded.

“The root of much of human suffering is caused by a severed connection that was never repaired” Will replied.

This was true. A certain level of social interaction was needed to keep happy and healthy. This is why Hannibal frequently had dinner parties and went out on many social ventures. He would admit however all of these connections were surface level as it was very rare for Hannibal to actually let someone know him.

“Without friends, family, and loved ones, how can someone be expected to wade through the trials that life brings? It could drive them to looking for this missing piece in unconventional places.”

“That kind of loneliness could drive someone to kill,” Will murmured in agreement.

Hannibal had to repress the urge to smile at this. Will was very perceptive.

“Perhaps” he responded with a small nod. Will was looking up at Hannibal, still not quite meeting his eyes. “Not fond of eye contact, are you?” he questioned.

“Eyes are distracting” Will shrugged, shifting backwards in his seat, looking at the clock on the wall, likely anxious to have this conversation be over.

“Eyes are the window to the soul. When you look into someone's eyes do you see their soul? Or are you worried that they might see yours? That they might be afraid of what they see.” 

Will’s eyes widened at this and met Hannibal’s for a brief exhilarating moment before looking away again. The muscles in his face went limp for a moment before tightening. Hannibal had clearly struck a nerve, which was exactly what he intended to do.

“Who’s profile are you working on?” Will stammered, his ears turning pink.

“I’m sorry Will, but observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off.”

“I knew it. Jack hired you to keep tabs on me. To make sure I’m not going to go insane after starting fieldwork again. You could have at least been more discreet about it,” Will snapped.

“On the contrary he hired me to work on profiling serial murderers. Though I must confess he did want me to ensure you were competent enough for fieldwork.”

“And what are you going to tell him?”

It was clear Will was agitated at the ambush but he was trying to push the anger out of his voice as much as he could. In all likelihood he was doing this for his own sake rather than Hannibals. After all Hannibal did have the power over whether or not he would get to keep his job.

“I’m not sure yet. Though, you have a very perceptive mind Mr. Graham. I am quite confident you would make an excellent addition to Jack Crawford’s team.” This pacified Will just a little bit as Hannibal could see his jaw unclench and his muscles start to relax slightly.

Just then, Jack walked back into the office.

“Sorry for the interruption, I hope you got along well enough without me.”

Jack marched back to his desk and sat in his chair, looking back and forth between the two men in front of him.

“This killer is a white male, middle aged or maybe slightly older than that. He is single and has never been married. I doubt he has any previous record. This is a lonely and quiet man. Someone who speaks softly and goes through life unnoticed,” Will told Jack.

“And when can I expect a full profile?” Jack questioned.

“The day after tomorrow” Will said plainly before standing up and grabbing his coat. “I have to get going, my dogs need to be let out. I've been gone all day.”

_Wait dogs as in plural?_

Hannibal grimaced at the thought. He didn’t exactly hate pets, but dogs in particular had a foul odour he could not stand.

“And Jack” Will started, “if you didn’t think I was ready for fieldwork you could have just told me instead of hiring some psychiatrist to keep an eye on me.” With that, Will practically stormed out of the room.

The corners of Hannibal's mouth turned up. Normally he couldn’t stand any sort of discourtesy. But when these words tumbled out of Will’s mouth in particular, he found them absolutely fascinating. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a day later than I planned but I wanted to make it a little longer. Next update should be out around Friday!


	4. Chapter 4

Will drove home frustrated the whole way. He considered quitting his consulting gig just to spite Jack but thought better of it. He didn’t really feel like going back to teaching full time anymore. Doing fieldwork was substantially more interesting and made him feel like he was actually making a difference in the world.

Teaching was a good job and he really did like it but he knew he could save more lives by working with Jack. Will knew Jack knew that as well, or else he never would have let a slightly unstable teacher into the field. Besides he was still teaching part time and would have that to fall back on should everything else fail.

There was also the problem of Dr. Lecter and his psychoanalytical ambush, but that was something Will figured he could work through. It wasn’t exactly the first time a psychological professional had taken an interest in him after hearing about his empathy.

But he had been the first person to look at Will and immediately see the darkness that lingered inside him.

_Well not the first._

The only other person to see through Will’s towering forts before that had been David Campbell. But Campbell had been able to read him because of their shared empathy, and Will was quite certain that Dr. Lecter didn’t have this gift.

No, the doctor was only able to read him so easily because of the conversation they had. When they conversed, it was as if they were not just talking about the mushroom farmer, but also Will himself. Thinking back on it, this was probably done on purpose. He would have to be a little more careful next time they spoke. Will really didn’t need anyone learning just how big of an impact jumping into the minds of killers had on him.

When he got home he quickly fed and walked the dogs before collapsing into bed. It wasn’t very late but he had an exhausting day. 

Not long after drifting off, for the second time that day Will found himself in a forest. 

Except this time it was much warmer outside. Maybe spring or early summer. 

The plants were covered in a light layer of dew, and when he breathed in Will could smell the damp soil. The morning sun seemed to fill him with a sense of warmth all the way to his core. He could hear the distant sounds of birds chirping and bugs buzzing around his ears.

When he looked down he saw that he was shoveling dirt into a hole. But this wasn’t just any hole, it was a grave, and in it lay the unconscious body of a middle aged man. He wasn’t disturbed by this though, and continued to fill in the hole.

He had to be careful as not to disturb the IV or breathing tube he had placed so this meant it would take much longer.

He didn’t mind. It was all part of the process. The garden was more important. If he rushed through his work he may not be able to enjoy the fungi to their fullest extent and then all this work would have been for nothing.

When he finished, Will stepped back to admire his handiwork.

He watched as out of thin air mushrooms started to grow from the soil he just placed. This wasn’t right. It should be weeks before he saw these kinds of results.

_Wait what am I doing?_

Suddenly the air started to grow much colder and Will realized exactly what he had done and _enjoyed_.

The pleasant sounds and smells of the forest faded away and even the breeze went still.

The forest grew darker around him as he stumbled backwards in shock. Something grabbed his ankle and he fell into another empty grave paralyzed with fear.

Rotting hands reached out from underneath the dirt and held him down.

He heard footsteps next to him but when he tried to look up he found he was unable to move. 

The figure knelt down beside him, but Will still couldn’t see his face.

“You’re not who people think you are,” David Campbell’s words echoed through the still air.

Will tried to speak, to say he would never do anything like this, but the words got stuck in his throat. 

The figure grabbed the shovel and started to pour dirt into the grave. His vision slowly started to fade as the sounds of the shoveling became more and more distant. 

When Will opened his eyes he didn’t know where he was. He was freezing, dressed only in his sleep shirt and underwear. He was shaking and had to gasp a few times to ground himself back to reality. The air was just as cold as it had been in his dream but at least this time he wasn’t buried alive. He could hear his dogs barking from inside the house.

_Inside the house?_

In that moment Will realized he was lying on his porch. How he hadn’t woken up the second he stepped into the cold, night, autumn air was a mystery. It was only a few degrees above freezing.

He ran inside and threw on a sweatshirt and sweatpants to attempt to warm up but it was too late. The outside air had chilled him to the bone. But that wasn’t his biggest problem.

Sleepwalking. Will vaguely remembered a few incidents where this had happened to him as a child but nothing in recent years. Not even after quitting the police force. 

In all likelihood this was just a one time thing and would never happen again. There was no need to worry. At least not yet. Sleepwalking isn’t as common in adults as it is in children but that didn’t mean it was really that rare.

It’s not like there was any need to tell Jack. If he did, Jack would probably freak out and insist on a psych eval and Will wasn’t exceptionally fond of the person Jack would go to first.

Nope, this was something Will would keep to himself. But what if this became a regular occurrence?

He couldn’t really think of a solution and decided he would cross that bridge when and if he got there. 

He tried to get back to sleep but there was no use. He was wide awake after the nightmare he just had. Instead he just lay in his bed staring at the roof and getting lost in thought.

He wondered what exactly had triggered the sleepwalking. The crime scene that day hadn’t particularly scared him. Will was much more fascinated and intrigued than he was afraid. 

But something must have scared him. One doesn’t exactly get the kind of nightmare Will just had without being afraid of something.

He was afraid of David Campbell but he had been for years and it had never caused him to get out of bed in the night. While Campbell had featured in the dream, he wasn’t the central focus. At this point Will would be surprised if he didn’t show up. Campbell had been a staple character in his nightmares for years.

This dream was so scary because Will had forgotten who he was. He became the mushroom farmer. But this wasn’t the first time a killer got so deep into his mind so what was the problem?

Will decided he would come back to this question at a later date. He was much too exhausted to come up with a proper answer and it would be easier if he took his mind to a happier place. 

When morning finally came he made himself a cup of coffee. It was bitter and he didn’t even bother to put any milk in it. He was going to need a few cups considering he only had a couple hours of sleep and even then they weren’t very restful.

He slid out of bed and changed into some real clothes. The dogs probed at his ankles, clearly anxious to go out for the morning.

Will let them out and after he shut the door he went looking for his phone. He always misplaced the damn thing. Somehow it was always falling between couch cushions or left in various odd places around the kitchen. Once he had even found it in the fridge.

When he finally found his phone, which was still in his jacket pocket from the day before, Will saw several texts and a missed call from Alana Bloom. This was particularly odd considering she never contacted him outside of work. 

He punched in her number and she picked up on the second ring.

“Will, I’m so glad you called. I’m assuming you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Haven’t seen what?” Will asked, feeling a pit form in his stomach. What could she be talking about? Will ran through a list of things in his head but couldn’t think of which problem she could be referring to.

“Freddie Lounds published an article on you in Tattlerime. I’m so sorry I should never have let Jack talk you into any of this,” Alana replied in a soft comforting tone.

“Who’s Freddie Lou… Oh” Will started before remembering the woman with bright red curls that had tried to get his attention at the crime scene. He had heard of Freddie Lounds and Tattlecrime before but had never had a face to put to the name. “You don’t have to worry about me Alana, this isn’t the first time I’ve had articles written about me. Whatever it is I can handle it.”

“I know. But it’s really bad Will. I don’t think you should read it.”

“Okay I won’t I promise.” This was a blatant lie. Of course Will was going to read the article but he also wanted to appease Alana. He knew it would upset her if he argued. 

“Okay. I wasn’t kidding when I told you I am always here for you to talk to. And even if you don’t want to talk to me about it, please talk to someone.”

“I will.” Another lie. 

“Good. How is your first case working for Jack going?” Alana was clearly trying to make conversation but Will took the bait anyway. While he didn’t typically like socialization, he really did like Alana, and she seemed to like him too. Even after his frequent attempts to push her away.

“It’s going alright. I really think we are gonna catch this guy.”

“I’m glad to hear you are adjusting well. Let me know if Jack ever tries to push you too hard, I’ll tell him off,” Alana said with a little chuckle. Will was sure she knew just how much of a hard ass Jack could be sometimes.

“It’s not Jack I’m worried about,” he mumbled. Will didn’t mean to let that bit slip out. The last thing he needed to do was come off as a gossip.

“I’m assuming you are talking about Hannibal. I know he can be a little intimidating but I think you’ll really like him if you give him a chance.”

Will doubted this. At best he would grow to tolerate Dr. Lecter.

Then Will heard a scratching sound at the door. He had forgotten he left the dogs outside. They were probably itching for breakfast at this point.

“Yeah you’re probably right. Thanks for checking in on me Alana but I gotta go. Dogs need to be fed.”

“Alright, take care Will.”

Great. Of course some tabloid journalist was writing articles about him. Will could never catch a break. Though it could always be worse, one article shouldn’t do anything substantial to ruin his reputation. As long as this didn’t become a common occurrence he would be fine. 

Will opened the door letting the sea of dogs come bounding in before serving them each his special recipe of homemade dog food.

When the dogs were settled into their dishes, Will grabbed his laptop and glasses and sat on his unmade bed to read the article. He punched in Tattlecrime.com then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again he found that his face was plastered across the front page with a title reading “ _It Takes One to Know One_.”

The picture was definitely from the mushroom crime scene but luckily wasn’t one of him smiling. He couldn’t imagine the kind of heat he would receive if that got out. It still wasn’t a particularly flattering photo considering his face looked blank, deep in concentration. It definitely fit the narrative of the article which implied he was a psychopath.

Will skimmed through most of it and noted a few lines saying things such as the FBI was using “one demented mind to catch another.”

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. At least Freddie hadn’t connected that he was the same Will Graham who was stabbed by a serial killer. Well at least not yet anyway, it was bound to surface eventually. After all it would probably be of interest to Freddie and her readers. Anything for a story.

Will was interrupted from this train of thought when his phone buzzed.

_Who needs me now._

It was a text from a number he didn't recognize.

_Hello Will, Jack was kind enough to give me your number after you left in such a rush. If you are free tonight I would like to have you at my office to go over the case a bit more thoroughly since we did not have much of a chance yesterday. Say 7:30?_

_Dr. Hannibal Lecter_

Will groaned. Why did everyone seem to insist on him being sociable today? He went to text back that he was busy and couldn’t make it, but he knew the doctor would see through this as an obvious lie. After all it was pretty clear to anyone with eyes that Will was never busy.

Dr. Lecter had probably picked the time knowing Will would have no excuse not to go.

He quickly typed out a reply.

_7:30 will work. But I won’t be able to stay for long._

Hopefully adding that last bit will allow him to escape as soon as possible without feeling guilty. 

Will’s phone buzzed again but this time with just an address in Baltimore. It would be an hour and a half long drive if he left straight from Quantico after his Thursday evening class and would still be another hour back to Wolftrap when he left.

He tried to convince himself he was grumpy about the drive but honestly Will loved driving. The peaceful silence in the car was the best place for him to think. If anything his 45 minute drive to and from work might be the best part of any given day.

Which reminded him he still had to teach today. He didn’t actually have to be there until noon, he had no morning classes after he switched to part time to consult for Jack. He also didn’t have any classes at all on Mondays and Fridays anymore which meant he would have more time to show up at crime scenes across the country over the weekends if he needed to.

Will spent the rest of his morning rereading the Tattlecrime article and then taking the dogs on a nice long walk before he headed off to teach his afternoon classes.

Today’s lecture was on serial gun violence. In particular Will spoke about a killer that had tormented Missouri in the 90s by breaking into homes, gathering a family up and forcing them to choose which of them would die. This was the most interesting case Will could find on serial killing with a gun considering guns as murder weapons were exceptionally boring.

Will had always found guns to be impersonal. If you are going to kill someone, a gun is such a wasted opportunity when there are a hundred more personal ways to do it.

But it was still an important part of the curriculum. 

Guns can give even the most feeble man a sense of power and this leads to a lot of perpetrators having quite a lack of creativity.

Even the killer Will had picked out as more interesting than the rest had turned out to be a 45 year old man who still lived with his mother. This man felt powerless in his life and the only way he could possibly take back that power was with a gun. Pathetic.

Speaking of guns, Will still had to get recertified to carry one on the job. His licence had expired a while back but he never bothered to get a new one considering he was just a teacher. But if he was going to be out in the field more regularly it would be smart to have one on him. He made a mental note to bring this up to Jack the next time they spoke.

When he finally finished his classes for the day, Will gathered his things and began the long drive to Baltimore.

He considered texting Dr. Lecter and canceling but decided not to. He had already promised he was leaving early so it’s not like he had to stay for long. He would go in talk about the case and then get out before he let any personal details slip. Will could just tell him that the dogs would need to eat and be let out, and that wasn’t even a lie.

When Will pulled up to the office in Baltimore he had to double check the address. The street seemed entirely too fancy for a psychiatrists office. However he confirmed it, this was in fact the right address. 

He walked up the steps and opened the door of the building to find himself in a waiting room.

The room was eerily tidy and completely spotless. It was apparent a lot of thought went into the choice of furniture and decoration as everything seemed to have a very particular aesthetic.

Everything in the room looked expensive. Not in a flashy or in your face sort of way. It was tasteful.

For a brief moment Will was worried he might be a little underdressed to be in a place like this. The thought passed when he realized that it’s not like he came here to impress anyone. 

Behind an antique looking leather couch was a portrait of “The Raft of the Medusa” which was a peculiar choice for a psychiatrist's office. After all the painting depicts the aftermath of the wreckage of a naval ship where 147 men were stranded on a poorly constructed raft. Only 15 of the men survived the nearly two weeks it took for rescue, and those 15 men were starved and dehydrated and had to resort to cannibalism to survive.

This wasn’t exactly the welcoming atmosphere one would usually expect a waiting room to look like. Especially one that was meant for people with psychological problems.

“You are right on time, come in.”

Will turned around to see Dr. Lecter standing in the entrance to his office. He must have gotten too distracted by the painting to hear the door open behind him. He felt his ears go red and awkwardly smiled at the floor.

The doctor that stood before him seemed like a completely different beast to the one he had met the day before. He wore a brown checkered three piece suit with a pale blue undershirt and a dark paisley tie. On anyone else the getup might look ridiculous but Dr. Lecter had managed to pull it off.

“Interesting choice in art for a waiting room,” Will blurted out. He didn’t actually want to say anything about it but the words slipped out before he could stop himself

“The Raft of the Medusa is an icon of french romanticism” Dr. Lecter replied with an amused smile. He probably wasn’t used to anyone being so bold as to actually point out his ridiculously dark taste in art.

Will walked into the large office and his coat was taken from him and hung up neatly before he could get out a word of protest.

The first word to come to mind when he stepped through the doorway was menacing. This place was practically designed to be intimidating to anyone who entered.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Dr. Lecter asked, watching as Will wandered around the office doing a quick intake of everything he saw.

This room was clearly meant to be theatrical. Walking through the threshold was almost like walking into another world. Everything about this place was tailored to perfection, including Dr. Lecter himself. All the furniture and art pieces were put together to carefully distract whoever walked in here from the man in question. It was obvious there was something about the doctor that he didn’t want people to see.

“Have any whiskey?” Will shot back before sitting down in one of the large black chairs in the center of the room.

He looked up at the vast collection of books that sat on the second floor and wondered to himself if Dr. Lecter had actually read them all or if they were really just for show. He decided on the former as he couldn’t imagine his host would need to fake intelligence, it was clear from meeting him that he was exceptionally smart.

Dr. Lecter glided over, handing over a glass of whiskey in an ornate glass, ever so slightly brushing his fingers against Will’s as he handed it to him.

“I would apologize for the psychoanalysis yesterday, but I know I will soon be apologizing again and you will tire of that eventually, so I will have to consider using apologies sparingly.” Dr. Lecter sat in the chair opposite Wills, swirling a wine glass in his hand. Of course he would be drinking wine, no matter what his guest was having.

Will fought the urge to roll his eyes at the comment. It was a fine way to appear polite without actually apologizing for anything.

“Just keep it professional,” He replied, his eyes fixed on his glass.

“Or we could socialize like adults.”

“We aren’t here to socialize. We are here to go over the case.” This came out with a little more bite than Will had intended it to. He was miserably attempting to hide his growing frustration at the doctors little game.

“Of course. What I’m curious about is how the killer managed to keep his victims sedated and under the ground without any restraints. The preliminary toxicology reports didn’t come back with anything substantial, so it couldn’t have been drugs keeping them down.” 

This didn’t feel genuine. Dr. Lecter was a medical doctor, he had probably come to his own conclusion about how the killer sedated his victims. He was probably testing Will, to see if he knew what he was talking about. Or he was just playing another game.

Will had just assumed whatever was in the IV was mixed with some kind of chemical restraint. 

“If it isn’t drugs it has to be a health condition of some kind. Maybe a diabetic coma?” 

“If that’s true the killer would have to know the medical history of the victims. He is probably a healthcare professional.”

Dr. Lecter leaned back in his chair holding his wine up to his face before taking a sniff and then a small sip. He seemed to be the kind of man that enjoyed life immensely, and savoured every moment of it. From his fashion sense to the decor of his office, the doctor appeared to take pride in everything he did and this included his choice in beverage.

Will realized that he was staring and promptly looked over at the large desk a few feet away from him.

The desk was not quite as neat as the rest of the room but was still much tidier than the one Will kept both at the FBI academy and his own home. It seemed as though Dr. Lecter kept it this way on purpose. Maybe to make him seem a little more human.

“I assume that the diabetic coma would have to have been induced somehow. Maybe a doctor or pharmacist meddled with their prescriptions.” Will replied before returning his gaze to the wine glass in Dr. Lecters hand. 

“Or the victims could have known him personally, but I find this hard to believe after our previous conversation on the social isolation of the killer.”

“If he had that kind of personal relationship with all of these people he wouldn’t be searching for connection. He wouldn’t need to kill anyone.” Will was certain of this. This killer was unbearably lonely, he could feel it.

“That brings me to my next question, why mushrooms? He could have chosen anything to grow from those bodies, but every single one was covered in fungi. That was no accident.” 

This time Dr. Lecters question seemed sincere. He was genuinely curious about what the killer was thinking when he chose mushrooms, and he trusted Will’s opinion about it.

“Fungi is the closest kingdom to animalia. This means that as humans we are more closely related to mushrooms than we are to plants or even bacteria” Will explained.

“He feels a certain bond with them,” Dr. Lecter agreed.

“The mushrooms are how he feels he can connect to his victims. Mycelium is sentient, it knows you are there. When you walk through landscapes it leaps up in the aftermath of your footsteps trying to grab debris.”

“When he reaches out to the people he buries, the mycelium allows them to reach back” Dr. Lecter commented. Will nodded in agreement.

He understood the killer enough to know it was more than just the mushrooms and more than just the people. It was the unity between the two that really excited him.

“It’s his design,” he said simply. And it was. This killer had to use mushrooms. He was compelled to. 

“I find it interesting you used the word design to describe it. It implies that the killer had some sort of artistic vision when he did this.” Dr. Lecter leaned forward as he said this, steepling his fingers under his chin.

“I don’t think he was intending to create art when he did this. But it is still art all the same.” Will stated, looking at Dr. Lecter to gauge his reaction before continuing. But the doctor didn’t react. “What is art if not the expression of human imagination in a form that creates a deep emotional reaction?” 

Will found himself shifting his weight forwards mirroring the doctor who was gazing at him intently.

“The scene certainly does illicit a reaction. I assume our killer had a deep emotional connection to the piece as well. Under this definition, couldn’t nearly every crime scene be understood as a work of art?”

“Yes. In a way they all are. Some are more refined and elegant than others, but all killers are artists in their own right.” Will caught Dr. Lecters eyes as he said this, and he swore he could see a glimmer behind them.

“Most people would be horrified to hear you compare a serial killer to an artist.”

Will noted the use of the word “most.” Yes most people would be horrified by this comparison but the man sitting across from him appeared absolutely captivated.

“Most. But not you,” Will stated. This made the doctor smile and Will found himself doing the same. 

“Art cannot always be defined as beautiful or socially acceptable. The best type of art haunts us to our very core.”

Will sat back to think about this for a moment. He hadn’t told anyone about the significance that the word “design” held for him before. He didn’t even mean to tell Dr. Lecter, but it just slipped out. 

Then he realized, despite his best efforts, he had been led astray from talking about the case. Once again the conversation had been hijacked without him even noticing.

Will had to admit Dr. Lecter was good at what he did.

He did his best to try and regain control of the conversation. 

“Whoever left 9 bodies in shallow graves covered in mushrooms did not intend for them to be seen. This work of art was for the killers eyes only.”

“Well then we should be grateful we were given the opportunity to see it. Would you like another drink?”

Will had nearly forgotten that he had given himself an out for this exact situation during the short conversation they had over text earlier that day.

“No thank you. I really should be going. I have a long drive back and my dogs will be waiting for me” Will insisted, remembering the excuse he had come up with.

“Maybe another time then. Are you free this time next week?”

“I’m not your patient Dr. Lecter,” Will expressed firmly as he got up from his chair, placing his whiskey glass on the side table. 

“Of course not. I was only intending on asking you back to my office for drinks. God forbid we become friendly.”

Will shuffled towards the door and the doctor handed him his jacket. Will looked him in the eye before saying:

“I don’t find you that interesting.” he expected Dr. Lecter to be angry at this, or at the very least displeased, but instead the corners of his mouth turned up.

“You will.”

And with that Will walked out the door with his jacket still in hand, prepared for the long drive home.

He wasn’t exactly telling the truth when he said Dr. Lecter wasn’t that interesting. Will actually thought the opposite but he wasn’t going to give that up just yet. 

There was something about the mysterious office and haunting aesthetic that made him want to know more. Will could read most people like a book, their feelings and motivations were glaringly obvious, but Dr. Lecter was much more like a complex puzzle that would take time to solve.

Will imagined he would crack the code eventually. The doctor appeared to be much wealthier than the average psychiatrist. Maybe that's where the secret lie. Whatever it was Will was determined to figure it out.

He wasn’t sure exactly what it was about Dr. Lecter that made him open up. Especially since Will had always made a point of never opening up to anyone, sometimes not even to himself. It could be because Will knew he was a psychiatrist, but that didn’t seem right. He had known plenty of psychiatrists including Alana Bloom who he had never even considered opening up to. Yet here he was telling a tightly guarded secret after just meeting the man. 

Maybe Will was still recovering from his nightmare. The mushroom gardner had been taking up a large portion of his mind lately. Will could easily have been reaching out because that is what the killer would have done.

Or maybe there was some other reason.

At that moment Will abruptly slammed the breaks. A medium size golden dog had run across the road in front of him. He gasped before pulling over slowly just in case there was another dog lurking in the bushes.

Will got out of his car carefully so as to not scare the dog. Luckily he had some old treats in his jacket pocket. They were probably stale but would do in a pinch.

The dog backed away timidly but Will was patient. He knelt down stretching his hand out for the dog to sniff it. After a few minutes it nervously approached him. The dog's apprehension seemed to dissolve when Will gave him one of the stale treats.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” Will whispered in a soft tone. He gave the dog a scratch behind the ears and fed him another treat. It gobbled up the treat without hesitation. The poor thing was pretty thin and looked like he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days.

“You look terribly lonely. How about I take you home. There are plenty of friends there to keep you company.”

It took some effort to coax the dog into his car but he managed it after he pulled out his third and final treat.

“Trust me Winston, you won’t be going hungry on my watch.”

_Winston._

The name had just popped into his head but it seemed fitting.

Will drove the rest of the way home with a smile on his face, after all he did make a new friend today, which always put him in a good mood. Especially if said friend was a dog. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the facts I used about the mycelium were directly from a mycologist (mushroom scientist) named Paul Stamets who I am very confident Eldon Stammets is based off of.   
> I am hoping to get the next chapter out next Saturday! Hopefully updates will come weekly specifically every Saturday, I'll let you know if that changes.


End file.
